THE silver trumpets rang across the Dome

  • March 20, 2018  |  [ View 215 ]  | 

    THE silver trumpets rang across the Dome:         

      The people knelt upon the ground with awe:  

      And borne upon the necks of men I saw,           

    Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.    

    Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,                  

      And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,    

      Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head:

    In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.             

    My heart stole back across wide wastes of years              

      To One who wandered by a lonely sea,                

      And sought in vain for any place of rest:             

    “Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest,         

      I, only I, must wander wearily,

      And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.”     

  • Poems Category 108

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